


Jam

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 07:02:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/795210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Saturday morning breakfast</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jam

## Jam

by Sweeneybird

Don't own 'em, can't profit from 'em, words are mine, blah blah blah

Thanks as always to my lovely betas - all errors are mine. Except the error of fate that keeps me from being Jim's love slave.

Very, very silly.

* * *

"You...LICKED me!" Blair stared up at Jim. Jim idly noted his roommate's increased heart rate and dilated pupils as he ran his thumb over the corner of Blair's mouth. 

"You had jam on your face." As he repeated the caress, he enjoyed the feeling of Blair's skin. The slight stickiness combined with the prickles of the younger man's morning beard to add to the sensuality of the experience. Jim unconsciously mirrored the motion of his thumb with his tongue, lightly stroking the inside of his own lower lip to savor the mixture of sweet fruit and salty Blair. 

"But...you LICKED me!" The fleshy part of Jim's hand partly muffled the plaintive response as Blair instinctively leaned into Jim's touch. The detective hid a smile as he felt and heard the slight unevenness in Blair's breathing. 

"It was strawberry rhubarb jam." Jim reluctantly pulled his hand away from Blair's face. As he cleared the table he monitored his partner's reactions. Jim began filling the sink with steaming water, humming under his breath as the bubbles began to fill the basin. Behind him he could hear Blair shove his chair back. 

"Jim." 

Jim scraped the remaining eggs into the trash and placed the plates, forks and knives in the hot water. As he began to scrub he felt his own heart rate quickening with each step Blair took. Finally Blair stopped a few inches behind him. 

"Jim." 

Jim reached for the dishtowel and began to thoroughly dry the silverware, clucking softly when he noticed the faint stains from Blair's famous 'air dry' technique. 

**"JIM!"**

He sighed and turned to face his friend. "What, Chief?" The faint irritation faded as he took in the vision that was Saturday morning Sandburg - ripped flannel pajama bottoms, an ancient pair of Jim's gray hunting socks with the red trim, a thermal shirt covered by a chamois shirt covered by a ratty blue bathrobe. Blair's slightly bleary blue eyes squinted behind the silver glasses and his rosy lips contrasted acutely with the dark stubble that marred his late-winter pallor. And Jim couldn't help but grin at the sight of the rarest feature of all - an expression of complete and utter confusion on that handsome face. 

"You, you..." 

"Yeah Chief, I licked you. I know. I was there." Jim's brow furrowed slightly. "What's the problem?" 

Blair's eyes popped open and he started chewing on the side of his thumb. Jim reached over and tugged Blair's hand away, raising an eyebrow as he waited for a response. 

"Jim - licking implies- you can't just go around LICKING a guy and not expect a certain level of - sweet zombie Jesus, Jim, YOU LICKED ME!" Blair put one hand out to the counter to steady himself. Unfortunately he missed and brushed his hand against the still-hot teakettle instead. At his hiss of pain, Jim quickly grabbed Blair's hand and thrust it under the faucet, turning on the cold water as he did so. He could hear muttered curses as he held Blair's hand directly under the icy stream. Blair rested his cheek against Jim's shoulder blade, continuing his grumbling. 

After a few minutes the water had numbed both his and Blair's hands. "There you go, Chief - all better. Not even a blister." Jim released his partner and tossed him a dry dishtowel. "There's some aloe lotion under the sink in the bathroom - that ought to help. And take a couple of aspirins." 

Blair didn't move. Instead, he glared at Jim. "You..." 

Raising a hand, Jim barked, "SANDBURG. WE HAVE HAD THIS CONVERSATION. " 

Blair grabbed Jim's wrist and yanked the cop toward him. Tilting his head up to look Jim in the eye, he said evenly, "Jim. You don't LICK people. YOU don't lick people." 

Jim sighed. "I really like strawberry rhubarb jam." Hoping against hope that for once his partner would take a hint, he disengaged himself from Blair's grip and walked back over to the couch, stretched out and grabbed the remote. 

A rumpled pile of flannel passing for his roommate abruptly obstructed his view of the seemingly endless channels of golf on TV. "Better door than a window, kid," Jim said as he dropped the remote to the floor and looked up. 

"Jim." Blair ran his hands through his unruly hair, clenched his teeth and plopped himself down on the couch near Jim's hip. "Jim." 

"You said that," Jim offered, earning another glare. 

"Shut UP, man!" Blair thumped his hand on Jim's chest for emphasis as he repeated, "Just...shut...up." At Jim's amused nod, he continued, "Nobody likes strawberry rhubarb jam that much, Jim." 

Jim's hand covered his partner's, holding it gently in place over his sternum. "I really, really like strawberry rhubarb jam, Blair." Blair looked down uncomprehendingly for a moment, then slowly his eyes lit with understanding. Jim smiled lazily, running his thumb up and down Blair's index finger as light dawned on Marblehead. 

Blair bounced to his feet and disappeared into the kitchen. Jim frowned for a moment, trying to figure out what the anthropologist was up to. As Blair returned, Jim's face creased into one of the gold star Ellison grins that could light up an entire coast. Because Blair had brought out the remaining strawberry rhubarb jam and was smearing it on his mouth. 

* * *

End Jam by Sweeneybird: Sweeneybird@yahoo.com

Author and story notes above.

  
Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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